


32 Weeks and 15 years old

by tinydancer123456789



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Gen, High School, M/M, Mpreg, Pre-Series, Underage Sex, spoilers in rest of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydancer123456789/pseuds/tinydancer123456789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s fourteen and Dean has to take care of his little brother and the extra cargo that hitched a ride while Sam wasn’t looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	32 Weeks and 15 years old

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this work a long time ago. It hasn't been thoroughly edited so you'll probably find a few wording or spelling errors.

Sam’s only fourteen years old and Dean figures it out on his own. Not a word from his little brother. 

He was used to his little brother being uncommunicative. It was like as soon as he turned thirteen he woke up every day with acid on his tongue, just ready to tear down his father and brother with words. Brat was always looking for a fight. He was moody and in high school. 

Half way into Sam’s freshman year and Dean’s senior year Sam got his way and they were going to stick around until June. John would come and go, leaving them cash and cards for the motel room. Dean didn’t really have friends, but he was more than preoccupied by an entire class of senior girls. He didn’t take much more notice of Sam at school than usual. His little brother seemed content and he’d quite obviously settled in with a pack of ninth graders who were just as smart and moody as him. A few fourteen year old girls and boys that took Sam to the arcade, the movies, the library, downtown, to house parties. 

Dean never wondered what they were up to, never took it as a sign that his baby brother was growing up and going out. They just did what normal teenagers did he thought. 

And that should’ve been Dean’s first red flag because he sure as hell knew what fourteen year olds did, but it all didn’t seem to matter to him, four years past since he’d been Sam’s age. 

Sam’s moodiness increased with each passing week. Whenever John called to say he’d be a few more days, whenever he got a new assignment. So when he went out more and more each night he figured the kid just needed some fun and relaxation in his life. Dean would come home from the garage he worked at after school to find him diligently finishing his homework, with plans already made to go out. 

At fourteen although Sam had recently hit puberty he was still a beanpole. All long limbs, his abs were well formed but he was by no means bulky so Dean took notice when Sam’s appetite suddenly increased. And not just because it was putting a dent in their cash flow. 

His brother was trading salads for burgers, and water for milkshakes. He was grabbing one of Dean’s donuts before school in the morning, and when Dean raked up enough cash to take them out to the diner Sam ordered pasta. 

The diner was local and full of kids from the school, late night workers, and everyone in between. Sam and Dean were nestled in a booth in the back and Sam was busy meticulously devouring his greasy French fries. 

“Whoa,” Dean chuckled, Sam looked up. “You wanna slow down there Sammy?” his brother just rolled his eyes at the comment and kept eating. 

Dean never brought up again because his brother’s eating habits changed yet again and suddenly he wasn’t eating anything. Dean knew he was sick but Sam seemed intent on the notion that the bout of stomach flu would pass. His little brother was queasy and pale. Always turning a little green when food was offered. He chugged Gatorade like it was going out of style, he was dehydrated from all the vomiting. 

One day Dean came home from the garage expecting to find Sam finishing up his homework and getting ready to go to the movies with his friends but instead Dean walked in to find Sam leaning over the sink of the little kitchenette looking a sickly green. He was puffing air in and out, his cheeks filling up with air and then deflating. He had his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked sharply. Concern in his voice as he strode over to his brother. “Hey,” he said a little softer now, “What is it?” 

“Everything.” Sam huffed out with great effort, not daring to turn his head away from the sink. 

“What?” Dean asked in confusion. Sam gagged a little. 

“Bloating, heartburn, nausea. Everything Dean.” Sam snapped before his voice tapered off into a whimper. “Goddammit,” he muttered.

Dean gritted his teeth and sighed. “Sam. Man, I know you hate throwing up but you gotta if you want to feel better.” It only took some Alka-Seltzer and a little coaxing before Sam was violently sick into the sink and apparently feeling better. Although Dean made him stay in that night. 

A quick google search of his brother’s symptoms came up with a lot. Moodiness, bloating, heartburn, nausea, increased appetite. There were a lot of possibilities for those symptoms according to Wikipedia and Web MD. Pregnancy was the first result and Dean almost laughed out loud at the thought. His brother was only fourteen, he wasn’t pregnant. By the end of the night though Dean had read that Sam was either experiencing the stomach flu mixed in with regular teenage crap or he was dying. So Dean assumed to former. 

Never in a million years did he think he’d be wrong. 

The nausea faded and Sam’s appetite went back to normal, if not still a little increased. He was eating more like Dean which made things easier for the eighteen year old when he went food shopping. 

Dean spoke too soon because one rainy Tuesday morning he found himself being pulled out of English class and dragged down the hall by a secretary towards the nurse’s office. Dean’s shoes squeaked on the freshly waxed hallway as the older woman babbled. 

“Nurse Nemeth says he should be fine. Just a little fatigued. You know smart kids like Sam, running themselves ragged with extracurriculars, friends, and grades. He just needs to rest up. You’re old enough to sign him and yourself out to take him home.” She explained as she pulled open the door and ushered Dean into the antiseptic smelling office. Sam was sitting on one of the beds, arm crossed, chin jutted out in defiance. His ears turned pink when he saw Dean. 

“Don’t listen to them, I’m fine Dee.” Sam huffed, sitting up a little straighter. His backpack gripped tightly in his hand. A woman that Dean assumed was the nurse let out a tinkling laugh as she stood up. 

“Hi Dean.” She said in an annoyingly friendly voice that dragged out the syllable of his name. “Sam seems to be a little fatigued, he had a dizzy spell in gym class last period and lost consciousness. His friends caught him so he didn’t hit his head but the cause just seems to be lack of energy. You can sign him out for the day and take him home to rest.” 

It wasn’t until they were out of the Impala and back at the motel that Dean made a comment. “Dude, you fainted in gym class?”

“Shut up.” Sam mumbled, his eyes moving towards his feet. His ears turned pink again. Dean paused and examined his little brother again, it just seemed like one problem after another. They kept on coming. 

“You sure you’re alright Sammy?” Dean put a hand on his brother’s shoulder firmly, partly because he saw him start swaying on his feet. “You would tell me if something’s wrong.” 

Dean should’ve known. Sam hesitated and he looked like a deer caught in headlights for just a fraction of a second as his mouth moved and no words came out. He recovered so smoothly that Dean barely registered that anything was off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, like the nurse said.” Sam gave Dean a crooked grin and shucked his backpack to the floor before falling into the bed and promptly falling asleep. 

It was less than a week later. Dean wishes he could say he saw it coming, he thought he knew his brother inside and out. 

John had resurfaced for a few nights, leaving Sam out of sorts so Dean wasn’t surprised that when Sam rushed out the door early, just after John left, claiming he’d catch the bus and meet Dean at school that his little brother forgot his backpack. 

The worn out thing was toppled over with binders, folders, and books spilling out. Dean sighed and kneeled down to scoop everything back in. Wrappers, loose erasers, notes from his friends. All floating around in his backpack and as Dean tipped it right side up something else came loose and landed on the floor in front of him. Stark white against the grungy grey carpet, the logo printed on it was faded. As if smudged by the sweat of someone’s palm as they gripped it tight. 

Dean didn’t even blink before he was up and striding out the door. “Sam!” he bellowed, out towards the parking lot. Sam was pretty far away, on his way to the bus stop be he turned around quickly. He must’ve thought something was wrong or something was in the room and that Dean needed back up because he sprinted back towards the room at top speed. 

“Dean,” he panted, “What’s wrong…” he trailed off as he saw his backpack. “Oh I forgot my-“

Dean gripped his brother’s arm with bruising force and hauled him back. He pushed the skinny teenager up against the wall and shoved the white stick in his face. “You,” he growled, “Better have a good explanation for this. Or I swear to god I will call Dad and tell him to turn around right now!” he barked. He was being irrational he knew that much. But a million thoughts were swarming through Dean’s mind and none of them made sense. Why did his brother have a pregnancy test?

For a moment Dean saw panic and terror flash across his brother’s face as it crumpled and tears sprang to his eyes. But Sam quickly schooled his features and lifted his chin up, a sure sign that a fight was about to come from that acidic mouth of is. 

“Why” he started somewhat haughtily, “Are you going through my stuff?” Sam pulled his skinny arm out of Dean’s vice like grip with a slight wince. “I have to get to school.” He mumbled, reaching for his bag.

“Sam!” Dean commanded. 

“What?!” Sam spun back around and snapped, “What do you want me to say? What can I possibly say right now?” he asked, his face red. 

“Tell me that this isn’t yours Sammy. Tell me please…” the hesitation from Sam was enough and Dean found himself panicking. How could he have let this happen?

“You’re pregnant.” Dean stated slowly. 

The statement rolling off his tongue made him shiver. 

 

Neither of them knew what to do. To Dean it was painfully obvious that Sam did not grasp the scope of the whole situation. He was just a kid though, how could he. 

Sam said his name was Charlie and he had copper brown red hair and a few freckles on his nose. They met at the library. Charlie moved upstate though and Sam didn’t have his number. Not that it would matter. 

Dean watches3 Sam one Saturday morning. Sitting on the couch with a box of Lucky Charms, mindlessly watching cartoons. Dean could’ve sworn Sam looked about ten years old then. But when he double taked there Sam was. Fourteen, skinny and lanky. His jawline not quite sharp yet. His grey t-shirt rests on his abdomen that is curved in a way that made it look like he had a big lunch but Dean knows better. 

“You okay?” he calls over the sound of the TV. Sam just nods. 

John is due back again in a few days, and every time Dean tries to collect his thoughts and even think about telling his father about Sam he has horrible images of his father clinically slicing Sam open and ripping out the…baby. 

From what Sam says Dean estimates he’s about sixteen weeks along. Much too far along for any place around here to perform an abortion on a fourteen year old boy. It would be risky, the research says. 

John wouldn’t have to know yet. Sam’s far too skinny for anyone to suspect, Dean thinks the baby is probably malnourished as well because Sam’s belly really is far too small for this stage in the pregnancy. 

John wouldn’t have to know. 

 

It’s Christmas time. Kids at school call Sam a whore. His friends come over a few times a week because Sam doesn’t want to go out. His belly sticks out in a way no fourteen year old boy’s should. John Winchester still doesn’t know. 

The thing is that John only sticks around for a day at a time. Sam wears Dean’s jackets and stays on the couch under blankets with books in his lap. And then John is gone and the brothers can breathe again. 

They don’t talk about it much. The baby that is. Sam sometimes puts a hand on his belly or listens to his female friends drone on about baby names and clothes but he and Dean never talk about it. They only talk about Sam. 

Because Sam is only fourteen and his body isn’t ready to carry a baby Dean knows he’s uncomfortable. There’s too much pressure on his hips, and he has to sit in a desk all day at school. While everyone who knows passes judgment. But Sam still wants to go to school every day, eager to learn. 

On the first day of holiday break some lame Disney movie that has taken the nation by storm is playing on the television. Sam is dozing, not really listening to the happily themed songs emanating from the TV set. Dean is trying to numb his mind and relax but Sam keeps shifting, disrupting the couch cushions and making small noises. 

“Knock it off.” Dean mutters. Sam stills for a second but another one later he lets out a small groan and shifts again with a huff. 

“Sam, dude. Come on.”

“Dean, I’m trying.” Sam snaps. He flicks his too long bangs out of his eyes and tugs on the oversized black t-shirt that Dean bought him for a dollar at Good Will. His flannel pajama bottoms only graze his ankles. 

“Okay.” Dean sighs when his brother shifts again. “Come on.” He instructs, gently turning Sam onto his side and slipping a dingy throw pillow under his belly. His brother’s head ends up a little too close to Dean’s leg but he stops shifting and seems content for the time being. Dean watches from the corner of his eye as his brother’s knobby hand flutters down to rest awkwardly on his abdomen. He winces a moment later. “What now?” Dean asks. 

“Kicking.” Sam replies in a small voice. 

Dean says nothing. But Sam is blinking rapidly, as if there’s dust in his eye. Dean knows it’s not dust. 

 

The kicking happens again the next morning. At least that’s what Dean assumes it is because Sam stops and presses a hand to the side of his swollen abdomen and huffs out a breath as he’s pouring himself cereal. 

The rest of holiday break is spent watching movies and trying to make Sam comfortable. The doctor they visit with their fake insurance says Sam might not carry to term. His hips are too narrow and it could be dangerous. They try not to think about that. 

That first week back at school is awkward yet heartwarming at the same time. Sam’s English teacher gives him a second hand crib and changing table, his psychology teacher slips him a few months supply of gift cards to Babies R Us and local shopping stores for diapers and other necessities. Dean’s gym teacher tells him to come by the auto-shop garage to pick up an old rocker his wife used. It seems planned but since the Winchester’s have no idea what to do and simply try to put off the prospect of an actual baby, it’s quietly appreciated. They store the stuff in a cheap lock-up, in case John drops by soon. Which he doesn’t. Dean thinks he might not be back until March this time around, now that Dean’s eighteen. 

Sam never tells Dean when something’s wrong. He bites his lip, or his breathing gets heavier, his hands roam his swollen belly. Dean always has to figure it out on his own and the websites say that he could go into pre-term labor, the doctor agrees. So Dean pulls him out of school, he does his work from home. Nestled on the couch every day with books balanced on his belly. He looks sad. 

Sam calls Charlie. 

Dean’s in Calculus one morning, worrying about how Sam is back at the room when a kid taps his shoulder. He whispers very quickly but Dean picks up what he’s saying quickly. 

“Charlie’s the dad, right?” the kid asks in a hushed tone. 

“What?” Dean asks dumbly. 

“Sam, your little brother. Charlie’s the father right? I’m not saying Sam has to tell him because it seems like he would by now. I know where he moved upstate. Here’s his number.” 

The little slip of paper is handed off to Sam that afternoon. He doesn’t tell Charlie. They just talk, for hours and when it’s over Sam cries and Dean stays out of the room. 

Sam is thirty weeks pregnant when it happens. Dean knows it’s a bad day because Sam can’t sit still. He’s shuffling around the motel room, his sweatpants sit below his belly and his white tee was outgrown three weeks ago. It rides up, revealing a strip of pale skin. 

He looks miserable, the bump is way too big for the rest of his skinny body. He’s huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. He can’t get any of his work done. Dean watches as he waddles in anxious circles, both hands supporting his swollen abdomen. 

“Come on,” he mutters, running a hand over his belly. “Calm down.” Dean is dumbstruck for a moment, because Sam is talking to the baby. Before he has much time to dwell Sam lets out a strangled whine that has Dean on his feet. 

“Okay Sammy, sit down.” He hushes and helps lower his brother down onto his bed. Sam shifts his hips again in an attempt to get comfortable. His shirt rides up more, revealing taught skin. “It’s okay,” Dean mumbles again as Sam groans. “What is it, are you in labor?” he asks. 

Sam shakes his head, “She won’t stop moving, it’s too heavy. I need to walk but it hurts, I need to sit but it hurts.” He grunts in frustration. Dean studiously ignores the “she” part. He hauls Sam back onto his feet. 

“Dean.” He whines. 

“You can walk, it might help your hips come on.”

They walk around the parking lot for an hour. Well Dean walks slowly beside Sam as he waddles, tugging on his too small shirt and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Sam never looked more miserable. 

The doctor says if Sam stays on bed rest he should carry to term. Sam is eager to lie around and do nothing but watch his belly grow centimeter by centimeter. 

Sam is 15 years old, 32 weeks pregnant, and scared out of his mind when he gives birth to a little girl. 

He loses a lot of blood and doesn’t wake up for several hours after it’s over. The baby girl weighs four pounds and has brownish copper hair like Charlie, a nose like Sam’s and perfectly bow shaped mouth that Dean likes to think came from him. 

Sam wakes up and names her Sara, they let him hold her for a few minutes before she is sent back to the NICU. Dean holds her for a minute too.   
Sara Julianna Winchester is born on February 25th at 7:05 pm.   
Sara Julianna Winchester dies on February 27th at 9:30 pm in the NICU while Sam is sleeping. 

Dean hates the world at that moment. Sam made a mistake because he liked a boy named Charlie when he was fourteen years old. Dean watched his brother hurt for 32 weeks so that his daughter could grow. And the universe gave her two days to live for all the trouble. Two days. 

Three weeks later John Winchester shows up and tells his sons to pack their bags. Sam doesn’t speak a word and John doesn’t ask why. Sam carries a mahogany box in his duffel bag and John doesn’t ask what it is. 

Sam and Dean pretend that nothing ever happened as their father takes them to a new state. 

As far as they’re concerned, Sara Winchester and the 32 weeks before her, were all just a blip in time.


End file.
